Anton Yenin sat down with his father’s accountant in Grigory’s living room and watched the man tidy a stack of papers in front of him before he spoke.
Viktor was with him, sitting to his right. The man hadn’t said much in the last few days. He was the only person alive besides Jorge who knew Anton had given his father that lethal injection. No one would ever find out about the attempt to save Grigory’s life.
There was no reason for an autopsy. The man had Lou Gehrig’s disease, ALS. He was dying. He’d had pneumonia for weeks. No one would question his death. It had been inevitable.
Anton listened to the accountant with half an ear. He’d seen the will already. Many times. Grigory had been sick for years. His affairs were in order. All that was left to do was decide what assets to sell and what assets to keep.
This was no easy decision. Many people worked for his father in the New York area. They wouldn’t want to see his investments liquidated. Anton understood. But he had his own concerns. And he had more on his plate than he could handle as it was.
Viktor could see to things for the time being. But not forever. Viktor wasn’t Mafia. He wasn’t family. He was hired help like anyone else.
“Well, I’ll leave you two to go over the details and discuss how you want to proceed. If you need anything, call me. I’ll see myself out,” the accountant announced as he stood.
Anton rubbed a hand down his face as he leaned back in his armchair and sighed.
“You don’t have to make any decisions about your father’s business dealings today. Things will run themselves for a while. I have a handle on everything. Why don’t you take a few weeks, and then we can revisit these issues.”
Anton lowered his gaze to Viktor and nodded. “Appreciate it. I have far too many things to deal with in Chicago to even consider my father’s side ventures.”
“How is that going, by the way?” Viktor tapped a finger to his chin.
“Jorge discovered the common denominator among the survivors, including all the fighters who received injections as small children. He called me earlier this morning while we were at the visitation.”
Viktor’s brows shot up. “Really? And what is it?”
“Hepatitis A.”
Viktor startled. “What does that mean?”
“Apparently all of the fighters had Hep A as babies. It just so happens that Haley Sullivan also contracted it and only one other subject we picked up off the street.”
“So that’s why only two of your test subjects have lived. And I suppose your father didn’t have it either…”
“No. Actually, he did. Either it was too late or there’s always the possibility the drug won’t cure something like that.”
Viktor nodded, his expression serious. “It’s quite likely the drug won’t cure anything. It may be strictly preventative.”
“I’m clear on that.” It was the only thing he could think about lately. Concern ate a hole in him. He needed the drug he’d spent half his life developing to cure, not just prevent.
It didn’t help any that the FBI was breathing down his neck. He had six fighters, who used to work for him, on the defensive, and most of them had a woman behind them who was making his life more difficult by the second.
As if reading his mind, Viktor spoke again, “You any closer to muzzling that journalist?”
“Belinda Gallo? No. But I’m hoping to get her off my back soon.”
Between Belinda digging too deeply into his business, Haley sticking her nose into the missing homeless people, and Katie the damn doctor researching the drug his fighters had been given as children…
Anton wished he could muzzle all three of them, and he didn’t intend to leave Alena Dudko out, either. He would love to know if that woman had also been given the drug as a child.
Too damn many things on his plate.
And none of it would matter if he didn’t perfect the drug and get it in himself.
»»•««
Alena stared out of the wall of glass along the front of the clinic, her arms crossed under her chest. She shuddered as she eyed the various suspicious cars parked across the street. Some of them had people in them. Some of them were empty.
There were too many.
“You okay?” Katie asked quietly as she approached from behind. The clinic had closed fifteen minutes ago. Everyone on staff had gone home. No more patients were in the building.
Alena glanced up and down the street. “Who should be out there?”
Katie shrugged at her side. “Well, the usual, I suppose. Two of Yenin’s men. Two FBI agents. Sometimes more of each. All pretending they’re just hanging around.”
This had become their lives. At least two men were usually on their detail from the FBI. Their job—to protect the fighters and anyone else who had become involved in the complicated situation from the other men out there. Those hired by Yenin, the Russian Mafia.
“And not a peep out of Yenin or any of his goons in days,” Alena muttered. It had been quiet. What was the man up to?
Katie sighed. “The calm before the storm, you think?”
“Maybe.” Alena stared at a particular vehicle, squinting. She didn’t recognize the car or the occupants as any of the usual suspects.
Had Yenin hired someone new?
Or perhaps the FBI had. They often replaced people, shuffled them around a bit. The detail outside wasn’t specifically involved in the case or even knowledgeable about what was happening. They were just men and women whose job it was to keep their charges safe.
The passenger stepped out of the car, rounded to the other side, and opened the door. The driver also climbed from the vehicle. In a moment, she realized they were trading places. The driver glanced toward the clinic as he rounded the hood. She couldn’t see his face well from this distance. He seemed to look right at her as he tapped the top of the car three times and then swung inside.
Was he on the side of good or evil?
She almost jumped out of her skin when a shadow fell over her from outside. With a hand against her chest, she whipped her head to find Ivan standing next to the door.
“Jumpy?” Katie asked as she twisted the lock and let Ivan inside.
Ivan nodded at Katie, shot a wink toward Alena, and then lifted his gaze to a spot behind her. “Leo,” he stated as his friend emerged from the back of the clinic.
“How was the gym? Abram still pissy with you?”
“Yeah. He’s not pleased. He’s trying to line something up for me for this weekend.”
“Really? Sergei and I fight Friday night. And you just fought a week ago.”
“Yeah, but to hear Abram tell it, I didn’t even get winded at that fight.” He rolled his eyes, tucking his fingers into his jeans.
Alena wondered if he was truly mad at Abram or himself, or simply stating the facts. The guys did win most of the time. And with good reason it would seem. Although Katie insisted whatever was running through their blood didn’t make them stronger. It simply made them able to heal faster and less likely to get sick.
They didn’t win every match. They were human.
Ivan turned toward Alena, pulled one hand from his jeans, and set it on her lower back. “Sorry I’m late. I had a few errands.”
Was he up to something? There was a twinkle in his eyes she wasn’t about to question.
She’d gone all day without thinking about him. Okay, that wasn’t exactly true. She’d thought of him often. But she’d managed to stay busy. Katie hadn’t asked a single question. Leo hadn’t either. So, at least she didn’t have to worry about every single one of her friends knowing her business when she hardly had it figured out herself.
She wasn’t up for twenty questions at this juncture.
Another car pulled up behind Ivan’s Buick where he’d parked on the street. Plain. Black. Four-door. The usual FBI agents.
It made her shudder every time, but she hated the way she’d grown to expect their constant tail. It was unnerving, but it also made her f
eel safer.
“You guys good? See you tomorrow?” Ivan asked, ushering Alena toward the door.
“Yes. Be careful,” Leo stated, glancing outside. “There’s a lot of ’em out there today.”
Ah, so Alena wasn’t the only one to notice.
She followed Ivan out to his car and slid inside when he opened the door. After several hours without him in her space, she was a little nervous to go back to their apartment.
“Have you talked to Sergei?” she asked when he climbed into the driver’s side. If Ivan’s friend would come back for the night, at least they’d have a buffer.
“Yes. Said he swung by the apartment to grab some clothes. He said he started a construction job today. Then he left again.”
Shit.
There went that idea.
“You okay?” He shot her a glance, his brow slightly furrowed.
“Yeah.” She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. The tight confines of the car made her nervous. Why did she keep reverting back to such a nervous state? He’d told her and reassured her he was into her. She should relax and let it go. But the truth was, she would be stressed about having sex until they did it.
His hand landed on hers on her thigh, and he squeezed her fingers. He left her in silence for a few minutes. Finally he released her hand and spoke low and deep. “Shit. Jesus. Don’t these guys have anything better to do?”
She opened her eyes and turned to find him glancing in the rearview mirror, knowing instantly he was referring to the people following them. She didn’t dare twist her neck around to see what he was looking at. She was used to ignoring whoever followed them. It didn’t help. And it always made Ivan more nervous.
“More than one tailing us?” she asked.
“At least three. They aren’t even discreet anymore. It’s like they’re all puffing out their chests to each other defiantly. Yenin’s men want the FBI to know they’re on to us. The FBI wants Yenin’s goons to know they know. And Lord only knows what that third car is today, but I saw it across the street when I pulled up, and it followed us too. I’ve never seen that car or the occupants.”
She nodded. She’d seen them too. Everyone made her nervous lately.
Would she ever again in her life be free of this level of worry? It consumed her. It was her existence. She had only been partially kidding yesterday when she suggested she might have been better off held prisoner in Siberia than what she’d been through since then.
Ivan pulled into the parking garage under their apartment and claimed his usual spot, turning off the engine and opening the door of his dark green Buick Lucerne. He loved the old car. His friends made fun of it.
He rounded the back end and opened her door. Customary. She’d stopped exiting a vehicle without assistance months ago. Why bother arguing? None of the guys ever let her do it.
The hand he placed on the small of her back as they headed to the elevator wasn’t new, either. He’d done that for weeks, or longer. It was one of the main reasons she knew he was into her as more than a friend. Thinking of that hand on her lower back had given her the strength to drop her towel yesterday.
When they reached the elevator, he pushed the button and let his hand slide up her back to cup her shoulder. Also not unusual. Easing his hand down to hold her bicep loosely as they rode to the ninth floor? Equally customary.
She said nothing, passing the time enjoying the way he touched her with such familiarity. Why had she ever thought for a single moment he didn’t care for her intimately? To anyone paying attention, they had to look like a couple. Perhaps the other guys hadn’t picked up on the subtle difference between how he treated her and how he handled the other women, but the girls surely noticed. It was a wonder Haley was the first one to comment on it.
When they exited the elevator, he led her down the hall with his hand between her shoulder blades. He glanced both ways before unlocking the door and opening it. After ushering her inside, he turned off the alarm, reset it, and turned the lock.
Like any other day.
And then he put a prompt end to normal.
Before she could get two steps into the apartment, he grabbed her hand and tugged her back toward the door. In less than a heartbeat, she found herself flattened against the hard wood, his hands threaded in her hair, his lips on hers.
He kissed her as if they’d been separated for years. He flattened his body against hers as he deepened the kiss, stroking into her mouth with his tongue until she opened wider and tipped her face to one side to give him better access.
If he hadn’t been holding her up, her knees would have given out, and she would have slid to the floor. But there was no chance of that. Instead, she ached for him. She was on fire, the temperature in the room suddenly much higher than it had ever been. Every nerve ending in her body was sensitive. Alert. Demanding more.
It seemed like minutes passed before he finally broke the kiss. He stared into her eyes, his expression serious. Long moments went by. Finally, he whispered. “Why did I wait so long to do that?”
She smiled. “No idea. But if that’s what you’re going to do every time I drop a towel…”
He rolled his eyes. “If you pull that stunt again, you’ll find yourself very sexually frustrated. It might have paid off the one time, but I’m not the kind of man who lets his woman take control. I prefer to make the moves. And I prefer you wait for me.”
She swallowed. So bossy.
“We clear?” He lifted one brow.
She nodded.
“Good. You’re done pouting about having sex?”
She licked her lips. “I didn’t say that…”
“Well, let me suggest you consider taking that advice. Or your twenty-eight-year dry spell is going to drag on even longer.”
She flushed, heat rising up her already heated face.
He grinned. “I think we’re on the same page.” He released her and stepped back. “Dinner?”
Why was he always so worried about eating? Geez.
“I’ll just go change.” She glanced down at her scrubs.
“Nope.”
“What?”
“Don’t want you to change. Stay like that.”
“Why? I look awful in this outfit.” She plucked at the fabric at her waist. Polyester and cotton. Totally unflattering. It hung off her shoulders like a curtain and down her legs in equal fashion.
“Exactly.” He winked and took her hand to lead her into the kitchen. “And the last two times you came out of your room, you were dressed to tease. Not tonight. I can’t take it.”
She grinned at his back as he tugged her toward the kitchen. When they arrived, he set a bag on the table. Black plastic. How had she not noticed he carried it in from the car? Was she so distracted by him that she couldn’t even notice something as simple as a bag?
“Did you go shopping?”
“Maybe.” He pointed at the fridge. “Can you grab me a beer?”
She padded closer slowly, eyeing the bag. What the hell?
Ivan having a beer at the end of the day wasn’t weird. Her getting it wasn’t weird. Mysterious black plastic bags with no explanation were out of the ordinary. Was she going to analyze his every move from now on? Dissect the new and the old?
Her gaze kept wandering to the bag while he opened the beer and took a drink. “What do you want to eat?”
“Why? Are you planning on cooking it for me again?” Another thing that wasn’t their normal. Usually she cooked. Occasionally he had her teach him something new. But she liked to cook. And she was getting good at it.
He shrugged. “I don’t care who cooks as long as you don’t fall under the misconception that it’s required of you.”
“I like to cook, Ivan.”
He eased into her space, cupped the back of her neck with one hand, and tipped her head back to stare into her eyes, searching. “At no point is our change in relationship going to mean I expect you to do shit for me. We clear?”
“Yes. But I’ve
been doing stuff for you for months. I like it. It gives me something to do. I don’t have any other way to contribute to this household.”
He hesitated and then nodded. “It’s not the same now. You’re not my slave.”
“I know that, Ivan,” she whispered. God, he was endearing.
“Okay. Just so we’re clear. I know you had some crazy notion that as a Dom I would want you to handle domestic tasks, and that’s not who I am. You want to handle domestic shit, I’m good with that. But not out of obligation. I am capable of stepping up to the plate. Before I moved in with you, I did my own laundry, cleaning, and cooking for years.”
“You want to take over mine, then?” she teased.
He eased his hand down her back until he cupped her ass. And then he pinched her, just enough to make her jump. “Always so sassy.”
She grinned.
He liked it. She could tell. Maybe he hadn’t enjoyed sassy women in the past, but he did now. And she was glad something about her distinguished her from previous relationships. It made her feel special. Different.
“I’ll cook,” she declared, shoving on his chest and shooing him out of the kitchen.
He nodded and then headed for the giant leather sectional in the adjoining living area and flipped on the television.
»»•««
Fedor Markov leaned back in the passenger seat and ran his hands through his hair. “The boss is losing patience, Vadim.” He turned his gaze toward his partner.
Vadim Romanowski looked through his binoculars, not taking his eyes off the apartment building. “Too bad,” he responded. “Tell him we’ll have the girl when we have the girl and not a moment before.”
Fedor groaned. “You know how ridiculous that sounds?”
Vadim lowered his binoculars to meet his partner’s gaze. “Do you know how ridiculous it sounds to insist we take an unwarranted risk during this mission?”
Fedor blew out a breath. His partner was right. But he wasn’t the one answering to the director of the FSB. Fedor took those calls. “Yeah, well, he’d like us to kick it up a notch.” The Federal Security Service of the Russian Federation did not normally operate outside its borders. In fact, if the FBI caught wind of them hovering around, they would immediately take measures to escort them off US soil. But this was an extenuating circumstance that began twenty years earlier on Russian soil under the KGB before it became the FSB.
Thrust Page 9
